


Engraved in the Colors of Our Love

by through-the-stars-to-the-pavement (delicate_mageflower)



Series: Fire and Sword [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ADHD Sokka, Autistic Zuko, Because hell yeah, Chronic Pain, Disabled Sokka, Disabled Zuko, Firebending as self-soothing, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Minor Aang/Katara, Past Child Abuse, Post-Hundred Year War - Freeform, Sokka has Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Sokka just super casually being a literal genius, Tattoos, This is so soft, Zukka Week 2021, you know because Zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/through-the-stars-to-the-pavement
Summary: Zuko wants to wear his heart on his sleeve. Literally.[Zukka Week 2021, Day 2:Tattoos///Soulmates]
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Fire and Sword [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209962
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	Engraved in the Colors of Our Love

Zuko asked Aang what he should expect.

Spirits know he’s endured enough pain to last a lifetime, more than enough that this shouldn’t scare him, but there’s always the risk of a sensory meltdown and…well, simply the unknown.

So he asked Aang what to expect. And Aang offered to help. He offered to do it for him.

“He’s going to love it,” Aang smiles as Zuko extends his arm. Sokka is currently out with Katara while she and Aang are visiting, and Zuko heavily encouraged them to take all the time in the world (and may or may not have thrown Katara a significantly weighty coin purse and a list of Sokka’s favorite marketplaces, with the expectation of keeping his shopaholic husband as distracted as possible for as long as possible).

Nervous as he may be, Zuko trusts Aang with this. Aang was barely twelve years old when he received his tattoos, and Tenzin recently reached the rank of airbending master meaning Aang has now been one to perform the task, as well.

Aang knows what he’s doing. And Zuko is doing this for Sokka.

He’d sit through any amount of pain and discomfort if he thought the end result would make Sokka smile.

“I meditated through mine,” Aang tells him. “Yours won’t take anywhere near as long, but that’s how I got through it, so that’s what I’d recommend you do.”

Zuko takes a deep breath, connects to the fire inside of him.

He ignites the palm of his other hand, and then looks at Aang one more time before it begins. “Do you mind if I—”

“Do whatever you need to do.” Just as he is trusting Aang, Aang is trusting him. Neither of them will be hurt by the other.

Deep breaths.

He keeps his flame small and concentrates on maintaining it. Just like with the Sun Warriors, neither too large nor too small. He does not want it grow to the point of becoming dangerous, neither does he want to risk extinguising it before he’s ready, unwilling to summon another once the process has begun in case the sensation of what’s about to happen makes an ignition too difficult to control.

Meditating on an existing flame, however, he can do. Uncle Iroh has taught him well.

He doesn’t notice at first, when the initial prick first meets his left wrist. But when he does it feels…strange. Different. Not at all what he expected.

It does exacerbate the constant ache that runs down his arms and through his hands, a pins and needles pain, somewhere between sharp and numb. He’s dealt with odd pains for a long time, chronic conditions born from the physical trauma of his past. He knows pain well. This is unpleasant, but it is not quite that.

His flame remains steady.

***

Zuko’s wrist is soothed with ointment and well wrapped. He keeps his sleeves pulled down as low as he can, holds them in his fingers to prevent them from riding up. He doesn’t want Sokka to see it by accident. He wants to show him properly.

Sokka and Katara return to the palace roughly an hour after Aang is finished. He tells Zuko he will soon be able to remove its covering and let it breathe, and show it off. It should take a few weeks to fully heal, he warned, and firmly instructs him not to scratch when it begins to itch, which it will. A lot. It will at times feel unbearable, but Zuko can’t give in to the urge.

Much more meditation to deal with this ornament is in his near future, it seems.

“You’ll have to bring the kids next time,” Sokka says at dinner.

“Izumi has been asking about them,” Zuko adds.

Zuko had the kitchens prepare stewed sea prunes. Aang still hates them, but the looks on both Sokka’s and Katara’s faces when their dishes came out more than made up for Aang’s disdain.

(He has vegetable and seaweed rolls brought over, as well. There are also an array of custard tarts to follow, in Aang’s favorite flavors. So Zuko doesn’t feel too bad about it.)

“Bumi was starting to get _really_ good with a boomerang last time I saw him,” Sokka continues speaking, appearing not to notice Zuko’s twitch of discomfort when he brushes his freshly inked wrist wrong.

“You are a _terrible_ influence,” Katara jokes, and no one believes she means it. Zuko often wishes she wouldn’t give Sokka as much of a hard time as she tends to, but Sokka always insists to him this is a normal sibling dynamic.

“Hey, if you didn’t want me influencing him in the art of the finest weapon known to man, you shouldn’t have given him a name that fits so perfectly!”

Aang scowls. “Sokka, he was named after my oldest friend in an act of rememberance.”

Sokka fumbles for a moment over how to respond, but Aang then laughs and shows his support of Bumi’s ongoing boomerang lessons.

They banter like this for a little while, and Zuko can’t stop grinning taking it in.

This is his family. He loves them so much.

***

While Sokka gets ready for bed, Zuko unwraps and cleans off his tattoo per Aang’s instructions. He wants it to look as good as possible before he lets Sokka see it. Its colors are so bold and vibrant and it’s a bit sad to know it won’t stay that way, that as the skin heals those colors will dull slightly, but it will still be bright and beautiful for years to come as long as he takes care of it. So take care of it, he will.

The conversations they had over dinner are funnier in context. Zuko should have realized it was bound to come up, but it makes him all that much more sure he chose his design wisely. He imagines this will probably be his only, so it’s a damn good thing he’s so pleased with it.

Zuko doesn’t know how to bring it up as anything other than a non-sequitur, but no one has ever accused him of not being terribly awkward.

He crawls into bed next to Sokka, who looks so happy and Zuko wishes there was a way to take this moment and freeze it, to keep the contentment on the beautiful face forever. He loves Sokka so much, more than he had ever known it was possible to love, and Sokka’s joy is the most gorgeous thing in the world to him.

He reaches out to cup Sokka’s cheek with his left hand, and Sokka spots the hint of unexpected color from his peripheral vision immediately.

“What’s this, babe?”

Zuko pulls it away and holds it towards him, laying it out so Sokka can get a good look.

“It’s…new.” Zuko bites his lip, as nervous in this moment as he was when Aang started the process.

Sokka stares silently at the image now permanently etched into his husband’s skin in dedication to him, the blue boomerang drawn in reminder of him so Zuko will always have a piece of him close by no matter how far apart they may be.

“You got this…for me?” Sokka blinks rapidly, like he can’t comprehend this.

“Yes. For you. For us. To show you how much I love you. To never let myself forget I am the luckiest man in the world. And to let anyone who sees it know I am.”

Sokka does not respond by speaking, but rather in tender kisses along Zuko’s arm, careful not to touch the decorative but fresh wound, and then along his right cheek down to his lips.

He is usually the one between them who’s good with words, but in this he is left speechless.

(News which Katara will relentlessly tease him about later.)

***

The evening Katara and Aang leave, their goodbyes are sadly rushed. Somehow literally every last one of Zuko’s meetings of the day went obnoxiously over time, and it’s left him with far too little remaining with his friends.

This, however, did work out for Sokka and the last minute plans he made.

Zuko notices the way Sokka winces when hugging both of them farewell, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Sokka is too hard on himself about the chronic pain he’s suffered after the war, and detests having attention drawn to it. So Zuko will simply have to ask him if he’s okay later, in private.

But he doesn’t get the chance, the answer appearing to him the second Sokka removes his shirt in their quarters.

There is a tattoo, a bright red sun with highly stylized, exaggerated beams radiating all around it.

In the exact same position as Zuko’s lightning scar. Much smaller, but the placement still registers with Zuko like a punch in the chest.

“Sokka…”

His lips curl into a smirk under Zuko’s gaze. “You like it?”

Zuko says nothing.

Sokka lightly runs his fingertips along Zuko’s chest, just above that scar. He knows never to touch it, that to this day it’s extremely painful and sensitive. He knows, too, how much Zuko hates it, how sad he is about all he’s been through leaving marks on him which can never be undone, forcing him to flaunt the echoes of his abuse and stopping him from ever being able hide from it.

But to Sokka, there is nothing about Zuko that isn’t jaw-droppingly pretty, that is anything short of exquisite.

“You have the sun inside you,” Sokka says so softly, so sweetly. “And now I can kind of carry it with me. Close to my heart, where it belongs.”

“Didn’t it hurt?” Zuko asks, a crack in his voice. “That area looks like… It _hurts.”_

“Not gonna lie, it was a bitch and a half.” Sokka chuckles, because to him it’s really no big deal. “Aang kept telling me to try meditating, but I _seriously_ have no idea how the fuck you guys can do that. How do you just make your brain slow d—anyway. Katara held my hand and I talked her ear off, and I came up with this really cool idea, I’m calling it ‘radio,’ I’ve gotta start drawing out the plans for—but yeah. It just…felt right, to put it there. I don’t know. Are you…baby, are you upset? Because there’s kind of nothing I can do about it now, but…”

Zuko kisses him, holding Sokka’s face in his hands, bumping his own boomerang tattoo in a frenzy just to touch his amazing husband but that’s alright.

He plants his lips above the tattoo, and below it, and more on either side.

“Sokka…” A whisper against his skin, hot breath sending shivers down his spine. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I love every part you,” Sokka affirms.

“That means you have to love yourself, too. You are the greatest part of me.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that one.”

Zuko laughs, now nuzzling his face between Sokka’s neck and shoulder. His right shoulder, his good shoulder. “Absolutely not. You’re everything to me, Sokka. Deal with it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, who am I to argue?”

They move together, slow and cautious, unwilling to disturb either of their unhealed tattoos or either of their old but persistent injuries. Their motions are delicate, unhurried. Affection in closeness, expression by physical contact.

“Maybe next time Aang’s in town, you should get a turtleduck. How about right…here?” Sokka pokes at Zuko’s lower back, and he can’t help laughing.

“I’d say you’re lucky I love you, but I know damn well I’m the lucky one.”

“I don’t know, babe, I do feel pretty fucking lucky.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone reading who doesn't have any, everyone handles getting tattooed differently. I have even met some people who genuinely enjoy the process. Alas, I am not one of them, neither am I in the "it's uncomfortable but nothing too terrible" camp, which seems to be the most common. I have 16 tattoos as of right now. I have despised acquiring every single one of them. Placement definitely is a factor in how bad it'll be, but it's all bad with me. If you come with me to get one, I will squeeze your hand until both of ours feel like they're going to break off. I will gasp and hiss and twitch, and I will then be miserable about it every second of every day until it is completely healed over. Yet I will absolutely be getting many more. I currently have like 20 more planned. Because despite everything I just said, I adore tattoos with every fiber of my being and they are, to me, 100% worth all the pain and hassle. But just know if you do have tattoos and do, as is most likely, have a drastically easier time with them, I am so fucking jealous of you, holy shit.


End file.
